


Arthur's Magic Potion

by Altais4



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Romance, letscreatecabinpressure, peach schnapps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altais4/pseuds/Altais4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas feels old. Martin is clueless. When after a hen party some peach schnapps is left over, Martin decides to take a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arthur's Magic Potion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Let’s Write Cabin Pressure’s November Challenge.
> 
> I've no first hand experience of peach schnapps. For the sake of the story I assumed it to be a sweet liqueur with lots of aroma.
> 
> Many thanks to Ianina for beta.

It began with the hen party, thirteen girls and the bride on a trip to Stockholm at midsummer. 

In addition to the cheap white wine Carolyn provided for these occasions, the girls had insisted on peach schnapps, since it was the first bridesmaid’s favourite. Grudgingly submitting to their will, Carolyn guarded the box of miniature bottles eagle-eyed, handing them out solely as a reward for good behaviour or at least not throwing up on the seats. 

She could have saved herself the trouble. The trip ended – as it was to be expected – in total mayhem, with the bride kissing Arthur all over, declaring never to love another man.

When everyone had left – Arthur still reluctantly entwined with the bride – Douglas and Martin started on checking the plane for permanent damage. 

“Oh, some of them are still intact.” Martin’s gaze fell on the cardboard box filled with peach schnapps miniatures. Curiously he took one out to have a better look.

At the sound of Martin’s excited voice Douglas hurried over. He came to a standstill close to Martin’s back, peeking over his shoulder. “These? They’re garish.”

“Well, I think they’re kind of sweet, with the little laughing peaches all over. It rather fits for Arthur’s magic potion.” Smiling, Martin turned the little flask from side to side. 

“You are aware that Arthur didn’t drink any of these, today,” Douglas put mildly. “He doesn’t need them, anyway. The girls fall just for his sweet nature.”

“There has to be something about it,” Martin said petulantly. 

“You’re not seriously considering drinking those, Martin,” Douglas huffed. He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “Take advice from a formerly experienced drinker. They’re even worse when you’re not drunk beforehand.”

Martin turned around startled. It wasn’t often that Douglas mentioned his alcoholism. Still undecided what to do, he put the little flask back into the box. 

“Come on, Martin, let’s leave this mess to Carolyn.” 

On impulse Martin grabbed the box and cradled it protectively in his arms. “Maybe it’ll be for the best …erm, if I take care of them,” he stuttered.

“Ah.” Douglas raised a sardonic eyebrow.

Martin felt a blush creeping up. “OK, I admit it. I am curious,” he mumbled. “Happy, now?”

“Oh, Captain!” Douglas’ voice dropped a least an octave. “Claiming all of the naughty love potion for yourself? Or do you intend to share with your students at home, who change their partners on a weekly basis, at any rate?”

“Oh.” Martin hadn’t thought of it that way. And falling in love with one of the students… no. That wasn’t what he had in mind at all.

“Tell you what, Martin. I have a better idea.” Douglas’ expression became somewhat resigned. “Let’s go to my place. I’ll whip up some pasta and you can start your experiment on less dangerous grounds.” 

***

The short drive to Douglas’ flat, tiny bottles of peach schnapps jingling cheerfully in their box on the passenger’s seat, gave Martin some time to think, or rather fantasize. He tried to imagine changing places with Arthur, to be the focus of attention of all these girls. He drew a blank.

And then he thought of Douglas, as well. Since his first officer had been acting rather strangely today. Standing unnaturally close during their chat, warm breath caressing Martin’s cheek. Martin gulped down nervously. That had been quite nice. One more step and one might have called it an embrace. 

It hadn’t been for the first time, either. In his mind’s eye Martin recalled all the odd, little moments they seemed to share these days. He shook his head in wonder. If he didn’t know better, he would suspect some kind of midlife crises. Because really, nowadays Douglas was flirting with anything that moved, even with him. 

***

Douglas started dinner right away. With nothing else to do, Martin sat down at the kitchen table and stared at his box of miniatures. All of a sudden the whole experiment didn’t seem so appealing anymore. Martin thought of the very few instances he’d been drunk before. He had been talkative then, sentimental even, with a spitting headache afterwards. And nobody did ever fall in love with him. 

“Douglas, I think I’ll better go home … you said they taste awful, anyway,” he muttered. 

But Douglas wasn’t having any of this. “Oh, Martin. Don’t be such a coward. Look! If you don’t drink, you’ll never know.”

Not again! Douglas was laying a friendly hand on his shoulder, flirting. Martin felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach. To distract himself, he grabbed the nearest bottle. Its stopper opened with a satisfying ‘crack’. Cautiously he put it to his lips and sipped. Not bad. Martin took a larger swig, then another one, and emptied the bottle in one go.

“So, how did it taste?” Douglas enquired.

“Erm … fruity.” Martin had to think of a better description. “And peachy.”

“Ah, you call the taste … peachy. That is very inventive, Martin,” Douglas mocked. “And maybe another word would be … brilliant?” 

“Yep, that too.” Martin grinned. “I like it.” 

They fell into a more companionable silence afterwards. Douglas went back to his aubergines and Martin toyed with the next flask. Because you can’t fly on one wing, or can you? 

Oh, it tasted even better. But soon, he started fidgeting again, desperate to release some of his upbeat energy. He settled on watching Douglas, instead. The man seemed so perfectly at ease – moving, slicing, stirring, tasting, all the while humming a little tune. And quite handsome with his wavy grey hair. Martin rather enjoyed the sight. 

“I love watching you cooking,” he blurted. Then he went beet-red. Oh God, had he said that out aloud? 

“Martin.” Douglas turned around perplexed. “Is this a drunken confession? That you fancy my cooking?” 

“No, it’s like … like watching you flying. You’re really good at what you do and –,” Martin tried to explain. 

“No, Martin.” Douglas interrupted, now deadly serious. “You do not enjoy me flying. Actually, you hate it. As soon as I am in control, you constantly cite regulations ... sir.”

“Yes. I’m sure you were doing something incredibly dangerous then,” Martin retorted heatedly. Becoming maudlin again, he added, “But I do. I really love watching you.” 

At Douglas’ incredulous look Martin buried his head on the table. “You seem so happy then,” he whispered. 

“Oh, Martin.” Douglas said softly. Then he went to the counter and brought Martin a slice of white bread together with some cubes of cheese. “Better not to drink on an empty stomach.” 

Maybe it was for the excellent food that followed or even the peach schnapps, but their meal went very well afterwards. 

***

Douglas lighted some more candles and put on a CD. Then he picked up a bottle of juice and a glass from the kitchen and placed them on the coffee table. Martin, slightly wobbly now, came over, too, and dropped down on the other side of the sofa. He put his box of peach schnapps next to Douglas’ drink, tiny flasks tingling at the impact. 

“Oh, what’s that?” He nudged Douglas’ bottle as he tried to read the imprint in the dim light.

“That, Martin, is peach juice. I’m confident its taste is much superior to your shoddy mix of alcohol, sugar, and artificial aroma.”

“But mine is magic,” Martin said beaming. Then he got another one – his fifth maybe, he seemed to have lost count. Afterwards Martin snuggled up to the cushions, rather close to Douglas, who didn’t seem to mind. 

For a while Martin just stared hypnotized into the flickering lights of the candles, absently listening to the music. It sounded incredibly romantic, a melancholy song about a perfect day. He sighed. Something fell into place. “Your music, it's the guy who died.” 

“Lou Reed, yes.” 

Martin looked up at Douglas. His vision seemed slightly blurred in the weak light. “I would never have taken you for a rock music fan,” he mused. “More the opera type like Herc and all the other posh boys.” 

“I was young once, too.” Now, Douglas sounded almost hurt. 

Martin closed his eyes, avoiding Douglas’ gaze. He didn’t mean to imply that Douglas was old, rather the opposite. “You’re not old to me.” 

Sitting together in the dark, listening to music, drinking, flirting. Martin couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Just one tiny, little thing missed. Emboldened by the peach schnapps he moved incrementally. 

„Are you holding my hand, Martin?“ 

“Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing?“ Martin blushed as he began stroking softly. 

„Well, I don't recall Arthur holding the hand of the bride,“ Douglas drawled, his breath brushing the shell of Martin’s ear. At the next moment he pulled Martin into a kiss. 

Douglas’ lips were so very, very soft and slightly moist. Martin found the sensation rather distracting. But soon he pressed closer and melted into the embrace. Because Douglas’ kisses were electrifying like no one else’s. Martin resolved never to let go of these lips, again.

Then he sat up, nevertheless. “Douglas, the alcohol is making me fuzzy. Have you got anything else to drink?”

Wordlessly Douglas passed him the juice. 

Martin sighed. He leaned back and took a large swallow, still clutching Douglas’ hand. „That’s odd,” he frowned, “your juice tastes almost like Arthur’s schnapps. Hardly any difference.“

„What in heavens name –,“ Douglas grabbed the bottle, sniffed, and sipped. „Dam it, Carolyn!” he swore. “Martin, this is peach juice.” 

***

Martin had slumped into a miserable heap on the edge of the sofa as Douglas explained the truth. 

“It’s obvious, Martin. Carolyn switched the peach schnapps for juice, in order to prevent Arthur from drinking it and becoming a gremlin. It didn’t make much difference in the end, since it was the bride, who turned out to be an octopus, with poor Arthur getting caught in its tentacles.” 

Martin’s head was spinning. Like the silly girls on the flight, he hadn’t noticed a thing. However, the girls had been drunk beforehand and he was definitely not. He had to fight back the angry tears. Blind-drunk and completely sober at the same time, that didn’t even manage Arthur. And he had just made a pass on his colleague. 

As if in trance Martin tidied up some of the cushions and blew out the candles, music still playing in the background. He just wanted to get out of here. The fake peach schnapps he left behind on the coffee table. At the living room door he found his exit blocked. 

“Come here, Martin, don’t go!” Douglas sounded tense. He placed his hands onto Martin’s hips and tugged tentatively. “So, Carolyn borrowed my old trick with the Talisker. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal!” Martin wailed. “I’ve just made a drunken pass on you, and I wasn’t drunk at all. I’m so sorry.” He tried to get away, but stumbled only further into Douglas’ embrace.

"Martin,” Douglas held on tightly. “Don’t tell me you need alcohol to tolerate my company. I’m way better than that. Let three ex-wives be my witnesses." 

“I s…suppose not,” Martin stuttered. Douglas standing so close made him feel fuzzy again. Maybe his lapse hadn’t been so bad as he’d thought. 

"That’s better,” Douglas rubbed little, soothing circles onto Martin’s back. After a while he tightened his hold again. “Do you know, Martin, what the real magic about Arthur's peach schnapps is?” he asked.

Martin had no idea.

“It erases any doubt.” Douglas whispered into the crook of Martin’s neck.

That sounded somewhat reassuring, even if didn’t make any sense at all. But Martin found it hard to concentrate with Douglas nibbling at the tender skin of his earlobe. "How? I didn't drink any of it," he sniffed.

"No you didn't, but here we are." Douglas exhaled deeply and kissed Martin on the mouth. "That's just one of life's little mysteries." 

 

The End


End file.
